Nothing But Trouble
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Every single Weasley child was nothing but trouble according to their mother. However this time, Charlie suspects that he may have wound up in more trouble than anyone was expecting when confronted with an angry dragon.


**Kayaking**

**Up the creek without a paddle.**

**Write about someone who has gotten themselves into trouble, and find that they have no possible way of getting themselves out of it. (50 points)**

All of the Weasley children knew what being 'trouble' meant. It meant a loss or gain of position on the sliding scale managed inside Molly Weasley's head, an ever shifting and turbulent thing which could contort on the flip of a coin. Everyone had been the most or the least trouble at any given point, although it was generally accepted that Fred and George were the most amount of trouble, with Ron and Ginny hot on their heels. Bill and Charlie were steady in the middle depending on how much their mother actually knew of what they were getting up to, otherwise she remained content in ignorance. Percy was the least amount of trouble, resolute and firm in his moral standing, much to Fred and George's annoyance.

The scale shifted and grew with the addition of new grandchildren into the Weasley family tree, but ultimately the positions remained constant with her sons and daughter. It was an alliance of sorts to keep the more dangerous aspects of their lives out of their mother's hearing, to keep her unaware of the more extreme hazards of Bill and Charlie's jobs; of the potential impacts of Percy's decisions on not just his department but the entire Wizarding World; the explosions that rocketed through Fred and George's shop with such alarming frequency that Lee and Angelina had an automatic reflex to cast _Aguamenti_ at the first sign of any problems; the criminals Ron faced at work that didn't make the news, the quieter but more heart breaking cases; and the bruises from training Ginny hid under her robes, broken bones and cuts concealed behind a thin layer of fabric. The system was filled with holes, any chance to throw a sibling underneath the path of Molly Weasley's rage was taken immediately and with no regrets, but they all hid transgressions from her, redirected her which was easier with the new grandchildren.

Charlie knew if his mother could see him now, he would be plunged so far ahead of Fred and George on Molly Weasley's trouble scale that his standing would be on another planet. This was worse than anything they could have done, even with their joke shop experimentation and the explosion of three separate toilets.

"Easy, easy," he called soothingly, trying to fill his voice with confidence he did not feel, palms splayed, wand long since lost. The dragon snarled in front of him, head slowly swaying from side to the other, poisonous yellow gaze locked onto Charlie.

He swallowed, throat dry, mind racing. The stone of the cliff was rough against his back, flaking off beneath his heels as he shifted backwards, cold radiating through his burning skin. The dragon advanced another step, snarl increasing in intensity. Sweat trickled down Charlie's face, stinging his eyes, gasping for breath as the very air around them crackled with heat. His mind raced frantically as he tried to come up with a solution and fell short.

This was what they drummed into the heads of every new dragonologist when they first arrived, yelled at them at the early hours of the morning, leapt up behind bushes to yell at it at them until they could respond in their sleep, respond reflexively to any shouted question with those words: 'Never deal with a dragon on your own.' It was still occasionally yelled at the more experienced members of the team, and yelled by them when drunk and celebrating, exhilarated and delighted. It had been delicious payback to be able to shout those words at the new dragonologists after so long being the new boy, the youngest on the site. And now he would be one of those horror stories everyone knew, tales of people who grew overconfident and cocky, killed by the very dragons they were trying to save. Because they were, after all, wild animals. Wild and untamed. Not their fault.

Charlie had accepted when he'd taken this job that his chances of dying by dragons had increased dramatically, that was a given. Old magizoologists were a rarity, that fact alone dropping him a few notches on Molly Weasley's scale, even though he hadn't brought it up to her, everyone dancing around the issue and ultimately ignoring it.

"Easy, girl, easy," Charlie called once more, trembling so much it sent his teeth rattling in his skull. The dragon hissed, crawling closer, so close that Charlie could smell his ends of his hair beginning to crisp and burn, face flushing as sweat cascaded down his spine. He shushed her softly, a reflexive comforting noise he normally directed at his crying nieces and nephews. Small flecks of stone drummed off the ground, boots slipping as he pressed himself fully against the cliff, palms raised, face turned away as the dragon came impossibly close, breath searing his face. His eyes remained open, staring at the expanse of glittering green scales shining in the corner of his eyes, his brain bringing up memories up splashing in the large lake near the Burrow, the relieved feeling of cold water on sunburnt skin. A low hiss split the air, the dragon's mouth opening to reveal the glint of curved white teeth, a flash of red forked tongue-

She purred, large head bumping into Charlie's chest, horns nicking on his heavy jacket carving grooves into the leather. He collapsed to the ground, knees buckling beneath him, breath escaping in a heavy gasp as he hit the ground. The dragon chirped, lying down in front of the pale faced and trembling Charlie, reminding him in a strange way of how Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, behaved, watching and waiting, craving affection but unwilling to express it. Her claws were curled underneath her, the tip of her barbed tail twitching as she stared at him. Charlie could barely breathe, pounding heart lodged in his throat, black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

"Hey girl," he said weakly, slowly moving one hand towards the dragon. He froze as she shifted, adrenaline firing through his system once again, throat seizing up. She settled her head on the ground in front of his still shaking knees, smoke curling out her nose as she huffed out a long slow breath. He slowly moved his hand to the sharp curve of her jawbone, the hard ridges of the heavy scales that plated her body shifting into softer, smaller ones, muscles shifting under his hands as he scratched under her chin.

"There we go, there we go," Charlie gasped, barely able to believe his luck. He wasn't dead, he was still here, not a cautionary tale to scare the fresh faced, doe eyed new dragon keepers into submission… Well at least not yet. The dragon pushed her head into his hands, eye lids dropping slowly, her eyes shifting into vibrant yellow slits as her pupil expanded in delight. Vibrations from her chest rattled the loose stones, setting his muscles twitching once again, an old animal instinct to run and hide. He frowned, fingers running along her jaw, sliding across the softer scales and a strange twisted scar that disrupted the path of his hand. It knocked something loose in Charlie's mind, an old memory hidden under so many others.

"I know you," he told the dragon, voice still soft and soothing, "And you know me."

How did he know this dragon in particular? There had been so many since he first arrived here: Norberta from Hagrid, smuggled into the reserve and kept secret for almost three hours before one of the seniors noticed it; Malachi, the Hungarian Horntail for the Triwizard Tournament, one of the angriest dragons he had ever had seen; countless nestlings, too small to be left alone, too big to fit in a pocket, so he carried them in a sling like a new-born, warm beneath his heart like an ember. And then this dragon with the strange twisted scar beneath her jaw. He scratched the spot, feeling the memory slip out of his grasp as he reached for it.

Wind whistled through the trees high above his head, leaves rustling as they were dragged along the ground. Try as he might, Charlie couldn't hear the voices of the other trainers roaming the woods searching for him. He must have been gone several hours by now, his throat dry, his skin hot and itchy. But he didn't dare move from his kneeling position, muscles cramped and aching, screaming at him for relief. And in front of him, a calm, mostly asleep but potentially dangerous dragon. Faint wisps of smoke curled of her nose as she breathed, eyes closed and tail curling languidly at her side.

Charlie hummed quietly to himself, feeling the buzz of his magic beneath his skin as he pushed it into his hand, gulping down the globules of water he created, the cold a blessed relief on his dry throat. He could sense his wand like a heartbeat at the far end of the valley, too far away to even see it, far too far to summon it to him. No use to him, but maybe some use for his potential rescuers. The dragon snarled, lip curling to reveal a flash of those sharp white teeth Charlie was becoming uncomfortably familiar with. His hand shot back down from his mouth, the other picking up the path of scratching along her jaw.

"Where do I know you from girl?" he cooed. He had found, as the sun passed over head, clouds whizzing past but not offering an ounce of protection from the relentless heat, an identical wound on the other side of her jaw. But not a straight through and through, and then through and through again wound… two separate.

The memory hit like a bolt of lightning, fingers spasming in their scratching.

The wind bit into his skin like ice, rain lashing against his face as the storm roared around them, the noise almost drowned out by the ear-splitting shrieks of the tiny dragon in his arms, wings beating frantically, scales scoring red marks on his bare forearms. Charlie's feet slipped on the wet leaves, jaw clenching to stifle any noise as he hit the ground, the dragon continuing to scream and scratch him.

"Hush girl hush," Charlie whispered frantically, gasping for breath as he scrambled back to his feet, darting away through the forest, trees seeming to leap into his path in the dim light, "You're going to be okay; everything will be okay." She snarled at his words, unable to truly curl her lip and bite him like she wished to, jaw forced shut by the devilish looking hooks puncturing her jaw.

Shouts exploded out of the woods far behind Charlie, the crackle of spells fired wildly causing him to flinch and jump, under attack by an enemy he couldn't see but he still curled his shoulders protectively around the tiny dragon fighting against him. He had to keep moving, had to keep the dragon safe from the poachers trying to kill it. He skidded round the side of a tree, gasping for breath, eyes almost rolling in their sockets, spots of darkness blocking out the shadows. He couldn't feel the dampness of the bark through his jacket, could barely feel the ground beneath his feet, every inch of his consciousness focused on the tiny hissing dragon in his arms.

He shushed her, reflexively rocking her like a baby, leaning his face back and away from her lashing tail. He had to get those hooks out of her jaw, had to get her away before the poachers descended on them.

"I'm going to help you, okay girl? Just try not to bite me," Charlie chuckled despite himself, shoving back his sopping wet hair, immediately having to lunge to catch the dragon as she made a bid to freedom. He had to move quickly. He was running out of time.

He crouched down, bracketing the wriggling dragon between his knees and his chest as he raised his gloves to his lips, pulling them off with his teeth, spitting out the mud that was coating them. One particularly violent swipe of her wings scored a white-hot line of pain across his cheek, but he pressed on. Hands trembling, although whether from nerves or the cold he could no longer tell, Charlie grabbed hold of her head, feeling the press of smoke against his palm and took hold of one of the jagged fishhooks. He pulled in a few deep breaths, head swimming as his entire world narrowed to this tiny devastatingly destructing piece of metal.

A stomach-turning squish made Charlie gag; teeth clenched together so tightly he thought they would shatter before the hook was out. But he persisted, sweat beading on his brow, copper in his mouth, until the hook came free with a grunt, the dragon screaming at him, the sound muffled due to the grip he had on her. Charlie gasped, barely able to believe it, blood-soaked fingers tracing the vicious hook almost hypnotically and there was still one more to go.

This was harder, the dragon fighting against every millimetre that Charlie dragged out off her skin, her tacky blue blood coating his fingers. Sparks hissed out of her nose, tiny scorch marks littering his hands as he pulled, her wings trapped beneath his chest, digging into his stomach. The sounds of fighting had dropped away, an eerie silence broken only by the wind through the trees, rain pounding into the ground and the dragon's muffled screams. Charlie bared his teeth, grip slipping on the slick metal, grunting with effort as it slowly, ever so slowly, slipped out of her jaw. Charlie collapsed backwards, barely able to keep his grip on the dragon, no longer attempting to escape but trying to curl closer to him.

"Charlie! Charlie!"

"Charlie!"

Charlie jerked awake, the dragon hissing at him, the tip of her tail vibrating like a rattlesnake. The air shimmered around him, eyelids heavy and dragging closed as soon as he opened them. His head was pounding, a never-ending pressure against the inside of his skull, his throat was dry, and every breath hurt. His heart echoed strangely in his ears, high and light, fluttering in his chest like a hummingbird. Just had to…

"Charlie!"

There it was again. That noise… he knew what it was, he knew it. But it fell away from him, mind unable to focus. Green spiralled out in front of him, a living lake, unmoved and untouched. So thirsty. His eyes slipped closed, unable to fight to keep them open anymore. Blindly, he stretched out to scoop up some of the water, fingers skittering along a mirrored surface. What was happening? He just wanted to sleep…

"Charlie! Hold on we're coming!"

He knew those voices… he was just so tired… He had to sleep, just for a little bit longer…


End file.
